by Marvin Kaye
“Gene,” she asked, “after you got back from Washington, did you have time to stop at the bank?”
“No,” I sheepishly admitted. The only cash I had was what was left of the money Hilary had loaned me.
“For God’s sake,” she said, mildly exasperated, “what difference does it make who pays? The point is that we both want to share each other’s company.”
I had to admit she was right
We didn’t go out, after all. By the time Hilary came out of the shower, I was practically catatonic.
She fussed over me, trying to make me comfortable.
“I’ll call the Red Maple and have them deliver. You take it easy.”
I couldn’t have done anything else.
After she phoned in the order, Hilary sat down beside me on the edge of my bed. “Do you think you can stay awake until the food arrives?”
“Definitely; I’m starving. Also, I’m too curious to sleep. I would very much like to know, Hilary, how you and Willie Frost managed to arrive at Melanie’s before I did. Did she call you earlier and confess?”
“How could she? I was still in Washington, and she didn’t know where to reach me. No, I told you on the phone that I’d solved the Third Murderer problem. My first impulse was to keep my mouth shut, but after you said Mills had been stabbed, I knew I’d better get in touch with Willie and have him meet me at the Metroliner when I disembarked.”
“I see,” I remarked, not unimpressed. “So you cracked a three-centuries-plus puzzle in a day and a half?”
“A little longer. You forget that Michael left behind some clues. Everything jelled all at once.”
“You’re talking about the promptbook?”
“That, and the actual production, portions of which I saw over and over again.”
“Well, don’t keep me in suspense.”
“First of all,” she said, “I immediately eliminated the traditional choices: Ross, the servant, and—after some thought—Macbeth himself. Michael obviously wasn’t making all that fuss over corroborating someone else’s tired old theory. And it became increasingly clear, too, that he bore no love for literary scholars trying to answer a puzzle that requires theatrical knowledge and an awareness of the Shakespearean dramaturgy. Remember Michael’s insistence that even those unaware of the existence of a Third Murderer would understand his version of Scene 33? That effectively eliminates both Ross and the servant ... as they should be, considering the fatuousness of the literary arguments that have been advanced on their behalf—notions impossible to communicate to an audience!”
“But Macbeth?”
“He’s a little harder to count out,” Hilary admitted. “There is dramatic impact if he shows up in Scene 33, as he does in most productions. But there are too many contradictions ... especially when he becomes so genuinely dismayed during the banquet scene when the First Murderer tells him that Fleance escaped. Had he been the Third Murderer, Macbeth would have known that. Furthermore, the law of scenic rotation argues against Macbeth playing the assassin. Michael mentioned it once: at the Globe, one set of characters exits from one doorway practically at the same time the people who begin the next scene appear at the other entrance. Though it might be technically feasible for Macbeth to turn right around and come back on, it’s against usual Shakespearean staging technique.”
“So you ruled out all the old answers.” I nodded.
“Yes. Which left me stuck without any new candidates.”
“So you went to the Folger.”
“Uh-huh. That’s where it all came together. I read tons of commentary on Macbeth. Most of it repeated the answers I’d discarded. But two books suggested a new interpretation of Scene 33, and though they both missed the mark, they started me thinking in the proper direction.”
“What did they say?”
“Just a minute ...” Hilary said, rising and going to her room. She returned instantly with a batch of papers in her hand, as well as a paperbound copy of Macbeth. Setting them down on the edge of the bed, she leafed through the papers. “I took notes in Washington,” she remarked. “Here’s one of the two quotes—take a look.”
I scanned the proffered sheet. It was inscribed neatly in pencil. The passage Hilary wanted me to read was at the top. I glanced at the author’s name and blinked.
“E. K. Chambers?” I asked, surprised. “I thought that was the name of the actor playing the Second Murderer?”
“That’s Joe Farkas, who took his stage name from the Shakespearean commentator,” Hilary explained. “Joe is a bit erudite; he delights in private knowledge.”
I took the paper and read it
“From Shakespeare: A Survey (Hill & Wang, 1958): ‘But are we not to find a supernatural agent in that Third Murderer who silently joins the two commissioned to undertake the waylaying of Banquo? ... the scene is critical for the evolution of the plot, since the escape of Fleance forms, as it were, a turning point in Macbeth’s fortunes. And Fleance escapes because one of the murderers knocks out the light. Is it pushing the bounds of conjecture too far to see in this the swift momentary interposition of the hand of inscrutable Providence?’ ”
Hilary handed me the second quote, and I read it, too.
“From Blanche Coles, Shakespeare Studies—Macbeth (Richard A. Smith, N.Y., 1938). Author Coles cites Logan Pearsall Smith’s On Reading Shakespeare regarding the 3-M: “... is this dark figure, as some believe, no other than Macbeth, himself, or is he, as others hold, a supernatural appearance like the witches, but more dreadful ... a horrible embodiment, in fact, Murder itself ... ”
“Close,” I laughed, “but no cigar.”
“More literary closet theories,” Hilary agreed, “and from a theatrical standpoint, equally silly. How do you let an audience know a character is supposed to represent Providence or Murder Incarnate? By sticking a sign on the actor’s back? Personification is clumsy as a dramatic device; the only time I recall Shakespeare using it is at the beginning of Henry IV, 2—and then he has the performer immediately tell the audience, ‘Open your ears, for I am Rumour,’ or something like that, and specifies that the actor’s costume should be ‘painted with tongues.’ ” She put away the two pieces of paper. “Well, even though neither of these commentators hit the mark, they came so close that they started me thinking in a completely different direction.”
“About the witches,” I said.
“Yes. The first thing I realized is that when Macbeth vows to cancel ‘that great bond’ (in other words, the prediction that Banquo shall sire a line of kings), he is directly challenging the potency of the weird sisters!”
“He’s trying to ruin their batting averages as prophets, right?”
“Weirdly put, but correct,” Hilary remarked, wrinkling up her nose at the homely metaphor. “Now in the first act, the order of speaking of the three crones indicates that the Third Witch—whom Melanie played—is entrusted with the clearest vision of future events. She is the one who knows when the battle will end, when she and her sisters will meet Macbeth, and, later, what the eventual destinies of Macbeth and Banquo shall be. One scholar even suggests that the beginning of Scene 13 shows that the Third Witch had to stay near the scene of the opening battle to make sure that her prediction came true. I’m not sold on that idea, though it is suggestive.”
“It establishes her as the guardian of prophecy.”
“Exactly,” said Hilary. “Now let’s see what support we can muster for the theory that the witch is the Third Murderer. First off, Michael nearly decided to play the killing of Banquo in full light.”
“Why?”
“Because performances at Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre took place during the day in sunlight. This is what most scholars have neglected to take into account—the fact that a Jacobean audience would have been able to see the Third Murderer perfectly well. Therefore, they would have immediately recognized it was one of the witches. Such casting would have been perfectly plausible, too. For one thing, Banquo describes the hags as
being bearded like men. For another, men played all the women’s roles in Shakespeare’s time; in fact, they continued to do so well into the 1700s. This may have helped trap literary commentators into presuming the Third Murderer has to be a man, bless their Talmudic little minds and chauvinistic hearts.”
I said that Melanie, with her deep voice, certainly had no trouble playing the part, or anyway, the portion of it we saw.
“Of course she didn’t,” Hilary observed. “She’d had plenty of experience playing roles like Rosalind and Portia—those Shakespearean heroines who run around in drag.”
Just then the doorbell rang. It was the food. Hilary fetched it in, divided it onto plates, and put my portion on a tray near the bed. I sat up and voraciously began to consume my winter melon soup.
“All right,” she said, spooning up some of the hot and sour soup she’d ordered, “we’ve established that the witch could pass for a man. Now let’s talk again about the rotation principle. Considering the nature of Shakespearean staging tradition, is it physically possible for a witch to appear as Third Murderer? The answer is decidedly affirmative. In fact, considering that most of the cast has to appear in the following banquet scene, nearly everyone else is ruled out. The witch, however, has not been onstage for the equivalent of two acts, nor does she have to enter in Scene 34 with the rest of the company. Therefore, she passes the rotation test.”
She paused to taste her tea. “When we assume that the Third Murderer is one of the witches,” she said, “the business with the torch comes clear.”
“Yep. She strikes out the light to enable Fleance to escape—”
“Thus fulfilling her prophecy that Banquo will beget kings. It never made much sense to presume that a hired murderer put the torch out. They were prepared to slaughter both Banquo and Fleance, as per instructions. Some writers suggest that the First Murderer had an attack of conscience and extinguished it out of pity for the young man. However, there is absolutely nothing in the text to show he feels the least bit of compassion.”
“Still, doesn’t the line indicate that he snuffs the light?”
“Let’s take a look and see,” she replied, carefully setting down her chopsticks and reaching for the copy of Macbeth. She opened it to the place held by a bookmark. “We might as well read over all of her lines as long as we’re at it,” she said. “When we assume the witch is the Third Murderer, the things she says in Scene 33 gain enormously in significance.”
By then, I practically could recite the scene from memory. In fact, I began to do so.
1. But who did bid thee join with us?
3. Macbeth.
“Notice,” said Hilary, “that the Third Murderer does not answer, ‘The King,’ though that’s what one might expect a cutthroat to reply. Instead, the witch replies ‘Macbeth,’ which suggests that she regards him with a mixture of familiarity and contempt. That the witches have such an attitude toward him is borne out by the latter scenes in which they appear.”
“The answer ‘Macbeth,’ ” I observed, “is also literally true, if one subscribes to your theory.”
“Yes. By defying the prophecy, Macbeth did indeed bid the witch to join the murderers.” She paused long enough to eat some of her beef with orange flavor, then continued her analysis. “Look at the next thing the Third Murderer says,” she suggested.
Hearke, I hear Horses.
“Several commentators have remarked how the Third Murderer seems to have preternaturally acute senses,” Hilary stated. “She hears the horses long before anyone else does. (Remember the sound cue that came after the line was spoken?) Then, when Banquo approaches, it is again the Third Murderer who identifies him, in spite of the darkness. Conclusion: a night creature like a witch would possess just such powers. ...”
1. His Horses goe about.
3. Almost a mile: but he does usually,
So all men do, from hence to th’Pallace Gate
Make it their Walke.
“This, the Third Murderer’s longest speech, takes on a world of new meaning,” said Hilary, “if the witch speaks it.”
“It shows an uncanny awareness of all the people in the neighborhood, and their customary habits.”
“But it goes deeper than that,” she said. “Look at that phrase, ‘So all men do.’ Some editions of the play even separate it from the surrounding text with dashes—”
... but he does usually—
So all men do—from hence to th’Pallace Gate
Make it their Walke.
“Do you see, Gene? At one and the same time, the Third Murderer/Third Witch calls attention to the customary habits of mortals—as distinct from the creatures of the dark, of which she is one—and also to the fact that she is not a man, but a woman! (In fact, this is the place where Michael intended to have Melanie drop the cloak from her face, but she talked him into delaying the action till near the end of the scene.)”
“And now,” I said, “we come to the bothersome business of the light”
“Too much has been made of it,” Hilary stated. “If the witch had been accepted as the Third Murderer instead of all the other far-fetched characters, there never would have been a problem. The witch strikes out the light to provide a blanket of darkness in which Fleance can flee. When the torch is lit again, she immediately covers her action—as liars and villains frequently do—by being the first to make the accusation. ...”
3. Who did strike out the Light
“Macbeth himself behaved similarly upon the discovery of Duncan’s corpse in his castle. He tried to affix guilt elsewhere by murdering Duncan’s sleeping attendants. In Scene 33, the witch’s challenge cows and confuses the First Murderer, who blusters: ‘Was’t not the way?’ to hide his uncertainty. He acts the way any underling might who has just bungled a crucial task imposed by a king.”
The Third Murderer has only one more speech in the scene. I immediately saw its new meaning in the light of Hilary’s and Godwin’s hypothesis. ...
3. There’s but one downe: the Sonne is fled.
It was the perfect closing comment of a being whose sole purpose in the scene was to save Fleance from death. I suppose Melanie would have delivered it with just the right amount of gloating malevolence.
“Did you ever find out what word Michael planned to substitute for Banquo’s dying ‘O slave!’?” I asked.
“No,” said Hilary. “Melanie didn’t know. But I can guess. ‘Slave’ doesn’t make much sense, and ‘O slain!’ may be acceptable, though hardly imaginative. However, there is a word which may well have been misunderstood by whoever transcribed the script for the Folio printer. The slang dictionary suggests it belongs to the late eighteenth or early nineteenth centuries, but dictionaries usually take their dates from the earliest appearance in print of a particular phrase ... whereas it may have been in the vernacular much longer.”
“So what is it?”
“I think Michael was going to say ‘O slavey!’ ”
“Slavey?” I repeated, puzzled.
“It’s a word for a female drudge, a servant. Remember the promptbook? Banquo, dying, looks up on the face of the Third Murderer, revealed for the first time—and says ‘O slavey!’ In other words, ‘Vile witch! Lowly servant of the villainous king!’ ”
“Which seems ironic.”
“Very. The witches are anything but Macbeth’s servants, as becomes clear the next time they appear.”
“You mean in the Hecate scene?”
“Uh-huh,” said Hilary, blotting her lips with a napkin. “Consider Shakespeare’s great sense of the dramatic. The witches have not been onstage for two acts. Macbeth and his wife have dominated the action and it looks like he’s going to triumph over destiny. He’s already murdered Duncan, escaped detection, and been crowned king; now he intends to kill Banquo and Fleance as well. Then the witch suddenly intervenes and saves the youth. Directly after the banquet she reappears with Hecate, plotting Macbeth’s downfall. It tells the audience that Macbeth is merely
a plaything of evil forces.”
“That establishes a reason for Scene 35, which is usually considered spurious Shakespeare.”
“Not by me,” Hilary declared, “nor by a growing number of critics. The meter is just the kind of change of rhythm one might expect from Shakespeare upon introducing a formidable entity such as Hecate. But more important, the scene is a logical sequel to the murder of Banquo—once the witch is accepted as the Third Murderer. Listen to the opening lines!” Hilary flipped several pages and read the beginning of Scene 35—
1. Why how now Hecate, you looke angerly?
Hecate. Have I not reason (Beldames) as you are?
Saucy, and over-bold? How did you dare
To Trade, and Trafficke with Macbeth,
In Riddles, and Affaires of death ...
“Prophecies were hardly over-bold for witches,” Hilary commented, “but taking a direct role in a murder—that was another thing entirely! And look at that phrase: ‘Riddles, and Affaires of death ... Not just Duncan—but plural: Affaires—that can only refer to the Third Murderer/Third Witch’s part in Banquo’s assassination. Shakespeare was too careful a writer to employ a word unless he meant exactly what it said. And remember, he was at the peak of his writing powers when he created Macbeth!”
I finished my food and lay back down on my bed. I was comfortably stuffed. “This is all fine,” I remarked, “but how come the printed text reads ‘Enter three murderers’ instead of ‘two murderers and a witch’?”
“Probably because the play wasn’t set down in print until after Shakespeare was dead. Macbeth first appears in the 1623 Folio, and that volume is riddled with printer’s errors, mistakes of transcription, problematic passages, and lacunae. But you also might say that there is no Third Murderer. The witch is there as a protector of Fleance. That, I believe, is the real significance of the Third ‘Murderer’ in Scene 33!”
